The Sexual Optative

“I know you,” he said.

He was close to me, close enough to whisper his words, and they still thundered in my ear. I felt the warmth of this closeness, and his breath smelled like coffee and caramel. I glanced up from the organic produce, kiwi in my hand, but only so I could see his lips, because if I had ever kissed them, I would know. Medium lips, pouting in the middle, by nature and not intent, and a sharp jaw line. He had dark hair, yet no beard or moustache. Chest hair peaked out of the top of his button-down flannel shirt, and I saw a couple silvery ones, too.

I felt my lungs had stopped when I saw his hands. They were brilliantly strong in appearance, somewhat rugged, but not worn or calloused from lack of care. His nails were trimmed, filed, clean, so very clean.

I didn’t know him, no, but I had a flash vision of his hands in mine, on my face, my neck, fingers exploring, reaching soft places that would consume them. I gasped and exhaled as his hand grasped my arm, and he asked if I was alright.

“I don’t know you,” I said stupidly, finally looking into green eyes rimmed with brown and gold, and the most perfect eyelashes and eyebrows. Randomly, I wondered if they were truly that perfect, or ‘manscaped.‘ A small, nervous laugh escaped me.

He smiled, “I saw your profile on FetLife.”

I had feared this, if I ever put my face on there, I had feared someone would see me out in the real world, and now this.

I shook my head, “What is that?” I asked. There was no way I was getting out, was there? I had no poker face.

“You look enough like your pictures…” he said, still holding my arm, “that I instantly knew it was you. Funny, and weird, too, right?”

My mind whirled. He could have seen me, and said nothing, yet he had spoken, and he was holding my arm, though lightly. Was it supposed to be obvious he wanted what most on FetLife wanted? Did he want something sexual? What the hell did he want?!

“What do you want?” I asked. It came out sort of harsh, though I hadn’t meant to do that.

He released my arm, and apologized. “It excited me to see you, because I have been working up the nerve to send a message, and here you are! I have yet to send a note to anyone on there. It’s a little overwhelming… Sorry. I didn’t intend to come off like a creep.”

He looked at me, waiting, then said, “Oh, my name is Lacey.”

He awkwardly stuck his hand out. I shook it, and told him my name was Laura, then asked who named him ‘Lacey.’

He explained it was his last name, but he had been named after his father, Bryan K. Lacey, and his father was called Bryan, so they had started calling him Lacey Boy, then simply Lacey.

I asked what the K initial stood for in their names, and he said it was only the letter, no name.

I told him I think names can be very interesting, and he agreed, asking if I would like to go have a burger with him, because he had been headed to lunch.

“I’m vegan,” I said, “I also still have some more shopping to do, not that I am not hungry, or interested, but I like to get my shopping over with, because I’m not a fan of shopping.”

He looked down at his hand basket, and I did, too. The contents were burger-makings…

I asked if he had been inviting me over to have a burger at his place, and motioned to the basket, and he nodded, clearly embarrassed. I smiled.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for, Lacey, and I am not sure what I want, either. I’m not going to shut you down, but can we get to know one another a little more? I usually spend a lot of time messaging and getting to know people. I mean, we are here now, I know, but I’m not going to your place. We JUST met.”

He was nodding. I knew I might regret it, but asked if he wanted to try a plant-based burger for lunch, my treat. He jumped on the offer if I agreed next one was ‘on him.’ I agreed, and he ran off to put his cold items back, because the weather was too warm for groceries to sit in the car. I only had a couple shelf stable items. I lamely followed as he put back the cheese and meat, then we checked out. I told him where to meet me, and as we turned to go to our vehicles, Lacey looked back. I’m not sure why, but I smiled, and reassured him by saying, “See you in a few minutes!”

He showed me his full smile for the first time right then. I tried to shake that feeling that he was too attractive, and when it came right down to it, I would not be enough, once again. Pushing away my thoughts of rejection, I smiled back at him, and got into my car.

Lacey pulled into the spot next me right after I parked. He laughed and joked it had been too long since we last saw one another. It made me chuckle.

I found out how he likes his burger, and convinced him to skip the cheese this time. I ordered, plus drinks and fries. As we waited, I told him we would be “too full for any other shenanigans anytime soon.”

I gave him extra points for blushing, and we had scarcely started talking about ourselves when our tray of food was set between us. By now, I was hungry, and figured if someone lost their attraction for me based on watching me eat, then so be it. Lacey dug in, too, though, and soon he was commenting favorably about the burger.

“Damn, it’s good. I really am shocked. I thought I would be able to tell, too, and I swear I wouldn’t know there is no meat unless you told me. Vegans are going to rule the world!”

He laughed.

I laughed and continued eating, shaking my head. As we sat drinking our sodas after the food was gone, we discussed eating plant-based, his divorce, his daughter and son, the death of my husband, family, work. He seemed to be genuine, thoughtful, learning from life, and there were no ‘red flags’. I couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen between us if he liked me, and wanted to get closer.

Suddenly Lacey put his hand on mine. I looked at his face.

“Too soon?” he asked.

I sighed, and tilted my hand, threading my fingers through his as we faced one another.

“Noooo…” I said, slowly moving my hand towards him and back, loving the sensation of the softer parts of our fingers stroking one another.

His eyes searched my face, and I smiled, my hand moving back one last time, then inverting, so my fingertips could move across his palm. I saw and felt a shudder go through Lacey with the tickling touches, now all the way to his wrist. I didn’t stop, and he grunted quietly, then squeezed his eyes shut right before wrapping his fingers around my wrist. With his eyes closed, he said, “You must know what you are doing to me. I don’t even know how I can get up and walk out of here… without making a spectacle.”

He looked at me when I snorted and accused him of boasting.

“I’m not boasting, but I do have on pleated pants…”

I laughed and reared back, my hand coming away from his; he hadn’t been gripping tightly. I winked and excused myself to use the restroom, and he gruffly said he would probably be ready by the time I returned. To give him maximum time to get calmed down, I washed my hands twice, played with my hair, applied lip balm. He was standing by the exit when I came out.

“Well, this has been nice,” I told him after we walked to our vehicles.

“Oh,” he asked, ”are we parting ways so soon?”

We looked at each other. I explained I needed to talk with him more, and meet again, of course, because I liked the time we had spent, and I would love to spend some time with him when I’m not full of burgers and fries. I winced, “Yeah, I’m too full for what I am feeling right now.”

He kissed me. I kissed back, oh fuck, did I kiss back! His hand was on my neck as his lips met mine, sort of gripping the side, thumb absently moving as the kiss grew, then my collarbone, my breast, my body. The sound of the fabric of his jacket rubbing against itself between us made me wretched with wet heat, from mouth to crotch. Why did I love that so much?

Those full lips, slipping and catching with mine, tongues teasing, and I stroked mine between his teeth and lip, moaning when he reciprocated, playing my mouth, causing my lips, and tongue and muscles to make promises about their intentions. I never lie, and I sucked briefly on his tongue when I felt him press his erection into my body, pinning me to the car. I tried not to want, but I wanted. I needed someone that wanted ME.

“This is fast,” I breathed, and I heard him say ‘yes’ as his hands and arms mapped me out, coming close to lewdness, though fully clothed.

“Come over.”

I hadn’t known I said it until he told me he had thought I would never ask. ‘Oh, well…’ went though my mind as I kissed him again, and I said for him to just follow me to my apartment. I warned him he might have to park off property, and off we went. The ten minutes it took to get there allowed me to go back and forth in my mind about the mistake I might be making by inviting Lacey over the first damn time we meet. The truth was, he felt good, I felt good in his arms, and I couldn’t bring myself to think about wrong or right, only the comfort of his body pressed to mine when we were kissing. It was too difficult to deny myself. It was too difficult to deny him, also, especially because he could see and feel how much I yearned for more.

After we parked, I do not know how I floated up the three steps and into my place, but it happened. The door was still latching, and we were grabbing, kissing, hands touching everything.

I pointed to my room before going to restroom to pee.

Lacey was sitting on my bed, but still dressed, when I came out. He took a turn in the toilet, then came out and sat by me on the bed, taking my hand.

“What?” I asked him.

He shook his head, “I don’t want to do something with you today that makes you feel like you aren’t going to talk to me tomorrow, that’s all. I am looking for someone to be regular in my life, and I really like, more like, I am mind blown by what has happened today, Laura.”

I smiled. “Thanks, I like you, too.”

He kissed me, then stood, because the angle for it wasn’t the best. He pulled me up, kissing me, pulling my shirt over my head and latching on to one small nipple and a mouthful of the tender breast, making me moan as he sucked, then rubbed the surface of his tongue across the tip. He gave each breast equal attention, tugging at my pants. I helped pull them down, and stood in socks only while he held me with one arm, kissing my face, mouth and neck as his hand stroked firmly in the wet firestorm of my swollen cunt.

“You are so wet… Get on the bed,” he told me, “Move up more. You got it.”

Lacey took off his clothes as I watched. It occurred to me that I had no clue his age, though he looked fairly fit. He did have some silver hairs on his chest, and some in his pubic hair, silver, too. He didn’t have super tight flesh, but did have muscles. He saw me appraising him, struck a pose flexing muscle.

“Not bad for a 70 year old. At least, I hope that is what you are thinking.”

I was surprised by his age, and reminded him I hadn’t known it.

I told him he looked good, and I was admiring him.

Lacey crouched between my legs, and quietly said, “Well, I am not particularly well-endowed, as you could see, though I may love eating pussy more than anyone. I will take care of you.”

It hurt to hear him, or anyone, speak negatively about themselves. My life had been like that, me thinking I was lacking in some way with each person I knew, and trying to make up for it in other ways. I told Lacey there was nothing wrong with his penis. He said he knew, but it was only about six inches on the best days. Then, his mouth was on me, and I experienced a new sensation, as he simultaneously flicked my clit with his tongue as he sucked. It was rare for my climax to be so strong, so fast, and I was close to a second one, but he lifted his mouth off right before it.

“NO! Please, keep going, please!” I begged, no shame.

He smiled, “Oh, like that, huh?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, going back to what had become a liquid thrum and suck because I was flooded. I came, finally, and he stayed, and I came again. He wiped his face on my sheet, then wiped between my legs with it, telling me to turn over.

He backed me up to him, and said I could, “rest my head,” so I did put my head down. I held onto the sheet and mattress cover as he pushed into my vagina.

“Oh my god…” he said.

His height was perfect, and with each re-entry into my body, Lacey’s penis thumped my g-spot. I had an orgasm, and as my vagina clenched, I heard him again say, “Oh my god,” and continue pumping into me. He moved harder, faster, and I felt his hand against my thigh…? It was his thumb. He wet it, and as I neared another climax, he teased and pushed my asshole, then pushed his thumb in, adding to my climax. As I came, with his thumb inside me, his fingers gripped my ass cheeks firmly on both sides, almost painfully. I heard him say he was cumming as he pulled out, shooting his load where his thumb was in me, and on my inner thighs, which was a first. It was extremely erotic to feel it hit that tender area.

I thought we were done. He had let go of my cheeks. Then I felt him working his cum into my ass with his thumb, and playing with my clit and labia as I was still there, ass in the air, with his jizz on my thighs. He leaned over me, his hand slapping on the plump, drenched mess of my pussy, with one finger bent, popping my clit with every smack.

His thumb was moving fast in my ass. I was at his mercy. I knew I was moaning, crying and screaming, telling him obscenely what I wanted, and how much I loved it. He suddenly leaned over, calling me his ‘slut’, licking my ass hole around his thumb, and I came hard, screaming and biting the bed, sobbing. I slumped over, crying and sweaty. Lacey stretched out on the bed, and when I was able, I got next to him.

We took turns telling one another it was amazing.

It got quiet. Have you ever thought you could tell someone had something they needed to tell you? That was happening. There was something he needed to say. Then he said he had enjoyed what we did, and he would like to be able to do it once or twice a week. It seemed odd to say that. I asked what else he would like to do together, and he said he was open to sexual experimentation. I tried to laugh, then said I had meant ‘in general’, and not only sexually.

He said, “I’m really looking for a sexual partner. I have a girlfriend, but she is a couple years older than me, and not interested in sex. What I want and need is a younger woman, like you, that loves and wants sex as much as I do, and will not turn away from my attention.”

I froze inside, but said nothing. I did not allow my disappointment show, or my sadness. I was more down on myself than him, though. Soon enough, he left. Two days later, he messaged me on FetLife, trying to set another time to see me.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be his slut.

I wrote a nice note, thanking him honestly for the fun and pleasure, yet explained my hope was for someone that could spend more time, and want me for me.

He said to let him know when I couldn’t live without more of what we had done previously.

I haven’t seen him again.